The Accidentals Series 04: Control
by speshulduck
Summary: [au] “all the world has closed her eyes-tired faith all worn and thin-for all we could have done-and all that could have been” complete. (read my other au stories if you want the character development to make sense)
1. chapter one

title: control  
  
author: duck  
  
rating: pg-13. the vaguely safe for the kiddies version. still discusses rape, just not as explicit as the version you can find on svufiction.com  
  
summary: "all the world has closed her eyes/tired faith all worn and thin/for all we could have done/and all that could have been"  
  
author note: hang on for duck's rollercoaster o' angst, folks. you must be this tall to ride. and if your name is kukrae then you are a goddess for helping me get through the difficulties of writing this.  
  
disclaimer: not mine, and for once i'm happy about it. it's like being a grandparent; when they start to cry you can give them back.  
  
-----  
  
"Tell me about what happened."  
  
"Where do you want me to start?"  
  
"The morning of the crime."  
  
"Okay." He pulls a deep breath into his lungs, letting the soothing touch of fresh oxygen drown his fears. He meets Alex's eyes and she is soft and encouraging. They've never seen eye-to-eye on most things, he and Alex, but she is here now supporting him. He looks into each of the twelve juror's faces. They are all expectant, blank and void of emotion.  
  
It seems fitting that he should confess his sins at last in a courtroom. The waiting audience is prepared to damn him what he's done, though the law has released him from his crimes.  
  
Elliot Stabler, rapist.  
  
He tries the title out in his mind. He hates himself for what he's become. The self-loathing simmers underneath the skin of his emotions, ever-present. They expect a story.  
  
"It was a normal day," he begins. "As normal as it gets at SVU."  
  
"Could you explain for the record what you do?" He's been through this a hundred times with Alex.  
  
"I'm a detective with the Special Victims Unit," he explains. "We investigate sexually motivated crimes, crimes against children, the elderly, cases of that nature."  
  
"So this call was like any other?"  
  
"Yes. They said they had a guy whose story we had to hear. My partner, Olivia Benson, and I left to go to the hospital. Once we heard what had happened to him, we called Detectives Munch and Tutuola to come in and aid with the investigation." He halts waiting for her question.  
  
"And what was his story?"  
  
"That a man had kidnapped him and his secretary and forced them to engage in sexual acts. They had both been reported missing a week earlier and she was married. The original detectives thought they'd run off together."  
  
"We've already heard all the specifics of his case, so if you could just move along to what you did next?" Alex is standing casually in front of him now. She leaves the jury's view of his face unobstructed. He knows she will stay there for the rest of his statement. He always cries at the same spot.  
  
"Olivia and I went to investigate the place they had been dumped. It was this trash heap of a warehouse down by the docks. There were ten other warehouses in the immediate vicinity, so we decided to canvas them."  
  
"And where were the other two detectives at this point?"  
  
"They were the hospital, talking to the secretary. She'd been pretty badly beaten, but she'd regained consciousness after we left."  
  
"Why didn't you call for back-up while exploring the warehouses?" Alex asks, her cool demeanor still firmly in place. He knows she will cry too, even if only a little. She is their friend and she feels their pain deeper than she shows now.  
  
"We didn't expect to find anything. We didn't think the perp would be dumb enough to dump them so close to his place." He feels his throat constrict slightly. "We were both knocked unconscious at the third one." This is where it gets harder. He has to face what he did in front of a room full of people. It is harder even than what he has to face in his dreams. He's given up on sleep long ago, and he knows his face has the haunted look of a man who's condemned himself already.  
  
"Where were you when you woke up?" Alex's face is full of sympathy. She knows he hates this part.  
  
"I was tied in a bed," he says quietly. He stops.  
  
"I know this is hard, Elliot," Alex soothes.  
  
"I was naked."  
  
"Was there anyone else in the room?"  
  
"Yes," he says simply.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Olivia." His eyes close and he sees it again. The room is dark except for windows set high in the ceiling. They throw off a dank light and it casts a pallor on the scene before him. "She's handcuffed around me."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
He can see himself nudging her with his chin, calling her name softly. "I woke her up. I was on top of her with my arms and legs tied to each bed post with a thick rope. We tried to shift positions but we couldn't move." They both struggle against their bonds but to no avail. She tells him to calm down, that it will be okay.  
  
"How would you best describe your position?"  
  
"Very sexual."  
  
"What happened then?" He opens his eyes at the slight crack in Alex's voice. She knows the worst is upon them.  
  
"A man with a mask on came into the room." Cruel eyes leer through the black ski mask. "He had a gun." Mine? "I thought it was mine."  
  
"Was it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"Because he told me that if I didn't rape her, he'd shoot her with my own gun." In his mind's eye he struggles at the ropes, threatening death. The man laughs and points the gun at her. The sight of it freezes him in terror. Not Olivia. Not her. Point it at me and I will tell you to go to hell.  
  
He wishes she was here. Her own testimony is scheduled for that afternoon. He wants to face her. Wants to hear her condemnation, see it in her eyes.  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"Not at first. Because of our position it was easy to get between the gun and her." He moves to cover Liv completely. The laughter at his efforts rings in his head.  
  
"What did he do then?" He knows the hurt in Alex's voice is for them.  
  
"He laughed and put the gun against the top of her head." He breaks away from Alex's face and stares at the wood of the witness box in front of him. Buried in memory he can see her lips moving, talking to him, reassuring him, loving him. "She told me to do it. That it wasn't my fault." He pauses and can feel the tears starting to well up.  
  
"I've, ah, seen a lot in my years at SVU," he says, his voice scratchy. "I've managed to insulate myself from it. But this...this was the worst experience of my life." And it still plays in his head. He is whispering apologies even then.  
  
"I have to ask, Elliot..." Alex starts.  
  
"Yes I raped her," he says fiercely, hot tears spilling over. He jabs at them angrily with the palm of his hand, then lets his hands rest there over his eyes.  
  
"I'll never forgive myself and I don't expect anyone else to either." His heart has broken in his chest. It shreds his insides with guilt. He cannot live with this; the weight of it pushes down on his soul.  
  
"Olivia forgives you," Alex murmurs before she continues. He looks up and sees a single tear at the corner of her eye before she wipes it away and returns to her professional mode. "What was the man doing then?"  
  
He bows his head and closes his eyes again.  
  
"He was getting off on it." His voice is angry, bitter, filled with hate. What has he become? He cannot look at the defense table for fear of losing control and screaming his hate for the courtroom to hear. Look at what you've done, he wants to scream. Look at my shell of a life. Look at what I did because of you.  
  
Alex's voice cuts across his thoughts. "What happened after he forced you to rape your partner?"  
  
"He threw a blanket over us and left. We fell asleep after a couple hours." Guilt was eating away like acid inside his chest. She is speaking soft words of encouragement, but he cannot hear her. He is mumbling I'm sorry over and over again into her neck. The endless mantra burns itself on his mind as the words tumble out.  
  
"What?" Alex asks, leaning in closer to him.  
  
"Nothing," he says, realizing he was saying it aloud.  
  
"When did you wake up?"  
  
"We woke up to shouts and banging," he continues, his shoulders slumped. "John and Fin had gotten concerned when we hadn't called back in. They found out we'd been investigating the warehouses and brought in several teams of uniformed officers to help search."  
  
He feels a fresh wave of embarrassment as he sees John and Fin burst into the room. The expressions of horror on their faces suggest they won't be comfortable in the other pair's presence for a while. No doubt that ridiculous betting pool will be scuttled.  
  
"Just for the record, Elliot," Alex says. "When you left the room, who did the officers have in custody?"  
  
"The defendant." He still refuses to look, can't lose control. "They had just subdued him and were in the process of taking his mask off."  
  
"Thank you, Elliot. No further questions your honor." Alex strides confidently back to her table. The defense lawyer rises for the cross-examination. Elliot knows he will ask the horrible questions, making him go into excruciating detail about the rape, the circumstances surrounding it, everything.  
  
"Were you and your partner having sex before the incident?"  
  
Elliot's jaw drops as Alex leaps back to her feet to shout her objection. This is not what he was expecting. He sees the judge measure up the lawyer out of the corner of his eye. "What is your aim here, Mr. Dayton?"  
  
The weasel actually smiles. "I merely wish to ascertain if the detectives were previously engaged in a consensual sexual relationship. If so then I submit this was not in fact a rape. May I remind the court that we are not contesting the charges of kidnapping, torture and theft, only the two counts of rape."  
  
This is the only time he's ever felt relief over the night they decided to wait. "I'm perfectly fine answering, your honor, because the answer is no. Your argument doesn't hold anyway."  
  
"Really? Define rape. As a Special Victims detective I'm sure you're perfectly qualified." Elliot ignores the hidden insult.  
  
"There are many forms," he says. "The most common is where one person says 'no' but the other person forces them into sex anyway." Think of it clinically, disassociate. "In our case we both were forced to engage in sex by an external person."  
  
"But you said your partner told you to have sex with her."  
  
He feels dumbfounded. She had actually. But under duress; she'd had his gun pointed at her head.  
  
"She had a gun--"  
  
"No further questions your honor."  
  
His hands clench into fists of rage, but he can do no more good--or damage--here. His anger has washed away his feelings of self-hatred for now, and he allows himself to be led out of the courtroom, finally looking at the defendant who sits smugly in his chair. He wants to smash his face in.  
  
[tbc] 


	2. chapter two

title: control - chapter two  
  
author: duck  
  
rating: pg-13  
  
author note: it kills me to write this. sorry this was so long in coming but i was getting severe writer's block on it. nine inch nails is my soundtrack, kukrae is my hero.  
  
disclaimer: not mine, the poor dears. i'd take care of them if they were.  
  
-----  
  
"i can still feel you, even so far away."  
  
-nine inch nails, the great below  
  
-----  
  
Two days of some vague notion of happiness. That's all they'd had. A drunken confession on both their parts on Friday, a smiling if somewhat awkward haven for the weekend, a bitter pill to swallow come Monday. A few hours of torture. Weeks of anguish. Surely there was no god who would allow such a tragedy, and if there were and she went to hell for her disbelief, it would not compare to the life she leads now.  
  
The thing that completes her life has been torn away. The person with whom she could be herself refuses to see her, is not allowed to see her. He blames himself--she knows because she *knows* him--and cannot understand it is not his fault. She is the only person who could convince him otherwise. And she cannot see him.  
  
"What happened that day, Olivia?" She glances up at Alex. Her friend must take her through the most horrifying thing that has ever happened to her.  
  
"A lot." An understatement. Her voice is quiet and she can see his face. Not in the courtroom, of course; the defense attorney protested and won. She cannot even have the support of his physical presence. Still, it's like she can sense him, feel his torment. She knows what he feels because she knows him better than she knows herself.  
  
That weekend of self-conscious contentment she'd seen his shy side. It seemed like ages ago, but she could still hear his laughter as they made breakfast. He'd been so sweet and gentle, trying to make up for his perceived mistake. It had taken her nearly the entire weekend to convince him that it wasn't a mistake; just a little premature. They would wait on their feelings, making sure it was more than pent-up frustration and lust.  
  
What had happened in the intervening time was like that one incident on a much larger scale. It was an event in which Elliot thought he'd done wrong and would torture himself endlessly unless she intervened. And she couldn't.  
  
"Can you be a little more specific?"  
  
"Just ask me your questions." She is tired. The sooner she gets through this the sooner she can see him and convince him it's not his fault.  
  
"Okay." Alex gazes on her with worried eyes. Everyone's had that look of worry in their eyes lately, which is understandable. She was raped and so far she isn't having much of a reaction to it. "You received a call Monday morning for a rape case?"  
  
"Yes. My partner and I went to the hospital to get the guy's story." If she closed her eyes she could almost see his face. He was wringing his hands, worried about the woman he'd been brought in with. She was his secretary and he'd been forced to perform all sorts of sexual acts with her. "We called the other team of detectives to come in to the hospital while we went to investigate where they'd been found."  
  
This time she could see it when she closed her eyes. She could taste dankness of the warehouses, feel the heat in the air. They all look the same, the only distinguishing feature of the third one is that it recedes into the distance as darkness envelopes her vision.  
  
"We were both knocked unconscious when we entered our third warehouse. We weren't expecting the perpetrator to still be in the area."  
  
"Where were you when you woke up?" Alex's voice has a slight hitch in it. She confessed earlier that Elliot was having a rough time with this part.  
  
She is warm, covered completely. Her arms and legs are twisted in a slightly uncomfortable position, but a voice she knows and trusts is calling her name. "I was in a bed. My hands and legs were locked into place with handcuffs."  
  
"Was there anyone else present?"  
  
She opens her eyes to find worried blue ones that she knows so well. "My partner, Detective Stabler." They blink in embarrassment for a moment, but quickly set to trying to get out.  
  
"And what was your condition at this time?"  
  
"He was tied to the bed and I was tied around him. Neither of us had any clothes on."  
  
"And then what happened?"  
  
She shuts out her memories, struggling to live in the now. "A man came in with a gun. He had a ski mask on so we couldn't see his face."  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He pointed his gun at me and told Elliot to rape me." Her voice is a whisper and she can't shut out the images. The pain and the fear in Elliot's eyes. She has no doubt that if the gun were pointed at him he'd refuse.  
  
"I'm sorry, could you speak up?"  
  
She resists the impulse to glare at Alex because she knows her friend is just trying to do her job. "I said he pointed his gun at me and told Elliot to rape me."  
  
"Did he?"  
  
"After I told him to, yes." It was the hardest part, telling him to rape her. His eyes looked through her without seeing the entire time. It wasn't what she had expected for their first time together.  
  
"Why did you tell him to rape you? Wouldn't that be considered just sex?" Alex has prepared her for this. She knows what the defense attorney asked Elliot.  
  
"I had a gun pointed to my head. Of course I told him to rape me. It's still forcible coercion to engage in sexual activity, which is rape."  
  
"So did he?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And what was the man doing during the rape?"  
  
She feels the heat of embarrassment in her face as she remembers. "He was standing over us, enjoying himself."  
  
"How do you mean?'  
  
"He was masturbating." She grimaces her disgust at the defendant. He just smiles in a nauseatingly happy way. She's surprised he's not going for not guilty by reason of insanity.  
  
"What did he do once you were done?"  
  
"He put a blanket over us and left. We fell asleep after a while."  
  
"When did you wake up?"  
  
"When the rest of the police came in looking for us." She fidgets her hands for a moment. Munch and Fin had not been happy to find them like that. "When we'd gotten untied and dressed we were taken to the hospital."  
  
"Did you see who the police had in custody?"  
  
"Yes, the defendant." She flexes her hands and stares at them. Her fists clench and unclench as she tries to relax. She's not looking forward to the cross-examination.  
  
"And as a Special Victims Unit detective, in your opinion, who was raped in this case?"  
  
Alex is watching her closely when she looks back up to answer. Olivia tries to reassure her with just her eyes as she answers. "My partner and I were both raped. He may have been used as the agent, but it was forcible and against his will."  
  
Alex nods as she says, "Thank you. No further questions, your honor." She gives Olivia one last look of compassion before she sits down and the defense lawyer rises. Olivia can feel a knot twisting in her stomach. She doesn't want to relive it again in the way he's going to make her.  
  
"So, Detective Benson," he says with a fake half-smile. "You said you told your partner to rape you?"  
  
"Yes," she says. Keep the answers simple.  
  
"Then how is it possible that this could be considered rape? You told him to do it and he proved he was physically able to. He had to have an erection after all to do this."  
  
"Arousal does not indicate consent," she snapped.  
  
"But you consented?"  
  
"Of course not!" She inhales a deep breath, reminding herself to calm down. Getting angry is what he wants her to do. "I had a gun pointed at my head."  
  
"So you're telling me that you in no way wanted to have sex with your partner?" She glares at him.  
  
"Objection, your honor," Alex calls out from her table. "How is this relevant?"  
  
"I already allowed you to explore this once, Mr. Dayton," the judge says warningly. "I'll tell you again to make your point quickly ."  
  
"So did you want to?" he asks Olivia.  
  
"Eventually maybe," she admits after pausing for a moment.  
  
"So you were attracted to him?"  
  
Olivia bites her lip and then sighs. "Yes."  
  
"And do you think he was attracted to you?"  
  
Alex jumps back in again. "Objection. Speculation your honor."  
  
"Sustained. Rephrase the question or move on, Mr. Dayton." Olivia glances over at the judge and sees that she is glaring at the lawyer.  
  
"Did he ever tell you he was attracted to you?"  
  
She clasps her hands together and slumps forward slightly. This is worse than she was expecting. "Yes," she says quietly.  
  
The defense lawyer grins triumphantly. "Now, isn't it also true that you two also live together?"  
  
"We share an apartment yes." But this could be explained. "When he was getting divorced he needed a place to stay and I offered my couch. It ended up being a good arrangement."  
  
"So you're saying he's slept on your couch for how long now?"  
  
"He doesn't sleep on the couch. He moved into the second bedroom." She grinds her teeth together at the probing exploration into her personal life. Isn't there something Alex can do to stop this?  
  
"You two have never slept together?"  
  
"Literally yes, we've fallen asleep on the couch before. In the figurative sense that your looking for, no," she says defiantly.  
  
"You expect us to believe that the two of you are attracted to each other and neither of you wanted to have sex?" She glared at him as he shot an incredulous look to the jury.  
  
"We're partners. It wasn't ever an option."  
  
"But you were put into a situation in which it was and you told him to go for it."  
  
"Objection!" This time Alex leaps to her feet. "Will the defense please stop badgering the witness, who happens to be a *victim*."  
  
"Sustained," the judge says with frown. "You've made your point, Mr. Dayton."  
  
"Then I don't think I have anymore questions," he said smugly, returning to his table to sit down. Olivia stands to go, relieved it's over. Their part in this is done and she can go home and talk to Elliot. After all this time she can finally see him, explain it's not his fault. Their personal lives have been shoved on display for everyone to see and they desperately need to talk.  
  
[tbc] 


	3. chapter three

title: control - chapter three  
  
author: duck, who wishes she didn't feel right now.  
  
rating: pg-13  
  
author note: angst. lots and lots of angst. and some good stuff too.  
  
disclaimer: after writing this story i don't think anyone would ever give them to me, not even for my birthday or anything.  
  
-----  
  
"you know the best things in life aren't for me."  
  
-filter, the best things  
  
-----  
  
Olivia pulled out her key to unlock the door. She knew Elliot was finally inside waiting for her. Cragen had said he was a wreck when he'd dropped him off and warned her that he was trying to move out. He'd been staying at the station for the last two weeks while everything was rushed through the trial. Now she could finally see him, try to reverse all the damage he'd probably inflicted upon himself. She just hoped to God he hadn't gotten the idea of suicide in his head now that the trial was over.  
  
Elliot was Catholic, no matter how lapsed he tended to get about it. If he killed himself he believed he'd go to Hell, and knowing him, it was probably what he thought he deserved. He had a gun, or there were the bottles of over-the-counter medication they kept in the bathroom. Mix a bottle with some alcohol and he'd never wake up.  
  
By the time she opened the door, Olivia had nearly convinced herself he was going to try it. Consequently she slammed the door open a little too hard and startled both herself and Elliot, who stood in the living room with a duffle bag in hand. Their eyes locked and they stood there for a few minutes, just staring. It was the first time she'd caught a glimpse of him in a week. Did she look that bad too?  
  
He'd only testified that day; surely Alex hadn't let him do it with three-day's worth of stubble on his face. Had he been sleeping? The dark circles that sunk his eyes into his face screamed no. From the way his clothes hung off his body he probably hadn't eaten much either. Or maybe that was just because of the way his shoulders slumped into his body, like he'd faced death and come away the worse for wear.  
  
They stood like that, fixed in place for an eternity that lasted only minutes. Finally Olivia decided to speak.  
  
"Running?"  
  
A pained look crossed his face. "No."  
  
"Right. Moving out I guess is what they call it these days." Her voice sounded more bitter than she'd intended.  
  
"I just figured you'd never want to see me again. I'm going to request a transfer in the morning, so you don't have to. I know this unit means everything to you. I'm not about to take that too." His eyes shifted downward to the floor and her heart broke for him.  
  
"Elliot, I didn't mean that the way it sounded." She took a tentative step closer, but he didn't look up. "I mean I don't want you to run away from me."  
  
"I'm not running."  
  
"That's crap," she snapped. God, where was this anger coming from? She took in a deep breath, pushing it back again. "Elliot, I want to talk to you about what happened."  
  
"You can yell at me," he said, finally looking at her. "I know you need to."  
  
"I don't need to yell," she said, confused. "Why do you think that?" she asked as she turned to close the door behind her.  
  
"Because it's my fault. I did this." He gestured aimlessly with his hand. "To you."  
  
"Elliot, we were both forced into something we didn't want to do. It's not your fault." She crossed the room slowly to stand in front of him. "He made us do this, not you."  
  
Elliot dropped his bag on the floor. It landed with a soft thud she'd expect from clothes. "But I was the one who ultimately did it, not him."  
  
"He was going to shoot me if you hadn't." She locked gazes with him again. When he tried to look away she tipped his chin up with her finger. "I don't blame you for this."  
  
"But I do," he said softly. She resisted the urge to envelope him in a full-body hug and settled instead for cradling his cheek in her hand. He half-closed his eyes at her touch.  
  
"It's not your fault," she insisted quietly. His eyes opened again and he grimaced as he shifted his face away from her hand.  
  
"Yes, it is." He took a step to the side and picked up his bag again.  
  
"Elliot Stabler," she gritted out through her teeth. "Don't you dare walk out that door." He ignored her and moved to do just that. His hand was turning the doorknob by the time she'd caught up to him. She stiff-armed the door and glared two inches away from his face.  
  
"You really want me to yell at you?" He was frozen in place, but he nodded slightly. "Fine, you're being an idiot. That's what I think."  
  
He didn't say a word or move a muscle. "What the hell are you thinking? No wait, let me guess. You feel guilty because you got it up enough to have sex." His face fell slightly. "Uh-huh, that's what I thought. You know that's crap, Elliot," she hissed. She drew in a short breath before continuing.  
  
"You have worked in Special Victims long enough to know that arousal does not mean consent and that you can*not* control your body's reactions. We established that we're both attracted to each other and goddamn it that means arousal. You were so busy hating yourself that you didn't even notice *I* was aroused too. You didn't hurt me, El." She cocked her eyebrow thoughtfully. "I certainly wouldn't have chosen that to be our first time together, but us having sex was probably inevitable."  
  
He gave a chopped bark of laughter before he finally turned his head to look her in the eye. They were closer than she'd realized. "You really think I didn't have control over my body? I'm not some hormone-crazed teenager."  
  
"And neither am I," she countered. He didn't waver his gaze from hers, but she could practically see his mind churning behind his blue eyes to come up with a response. "Listen to my logic," she pleaded.  
  
"It's my fault." At least the conviction was gone from his voice.  
  
Still, Olivia fought the need to scream. "Stop being an obstinate ass, Elliot. If it's your fault then why did the jury send another man to prison for 'your' crimes?"  
  
"Because they don't understand, and neither do you." He tried to open the door but she reached out with her free hand and locked the deadbolt.  
  
"You're not leaving, Stabler," she pronounced slowly. "You're not leaving the apartment. You're not moving out. You're not quitting your job. You're not leaving me."  
  
"It's my choice, Olivia," he reminded quietly.  
  
"No, this involves me." Her voice was definitely more agitated than she wanted it to be. She couldn't control it anymore. "I once promised I'd never leave you." She fought the sob that threatened in the back of her throat. "If I let you walk out that door now--out of my life--it'd be *my* fault. As if I were the one leaving you. And that's something I'd never be able to forgive myself of."  
  
"Don't you get it, Liv?" he asked, finally letting go of the door and turning his whole body to face her. "What I did to you is something for which *I*'ll never be able to forgive myself. I've become the thing that I so despised. I've become a rapist."  
  
She stared at him in disbelief. "You're not a rapist. That man, he was the rapist. If either of us is the rapist it's me. I *told* you to do it."  
  
He shook his head vehemently. "No, I...I'm the one who actually did it."  
  
"Do I have to knock some sense into you? You're certainly not listening to a word I say." She gave him a small shove so he wasn't standing in front of the door anymore. He just stood there and took it, looking at her with mournful eyes. "Dammit, Elliot, take me through it. The whole thing. Tell me where it was ever your fault."  
  
He continued to stare silently at her. She shoved him again harder, why she couldn't say. His back hit the wall and he dropped his bag at his feet. "Tell me, Elliot. Please. I need to understand. Make me understand."  
  
She couldn't control the sobs anymore and they finally burst out, wracking her whole body with pent up emotion. Her eyes focused on his lips, unable to look in his sightless eyes. His eyes had the same hollow emptiness that they'd held during their time in the warehouse. She was making him relive it all over again. He'd already had to do that once today during his testimony and now here she was putting him through hell again.  
  
"Come back to me," she whispered as she reached up and traced the line of his lips with her finger. He didn't move. She impulsively replaced her fingers with her own lips, kissing him gently. "Elliot," she said as she pulled back to look at him.  
  
"Liv," he murmured, his eyes only half focusing on her. "Don't leave me," he whimpered. She'd heard these words before. He sank slowly to the floor, sliding down the wall. She supported him every inch of the way down.  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
"Tied over you." His voice was a quiet expression of angst that choked her throat as she pulled him into a hug.  
  
"I've got you, Elliot," she said encouragingly. Tears from their faces mingled and fell together.  
  
"I don't want to hurt you."  
  
"You're not hurting me," she reassured. "You could never hurt me."  
  
She held him close and rocked him back and forth soothingly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath over and over.  
  
"If it's what you need, I forgive you, Elliot," she said into his hair, kissing his forehead. "Do you hear me? I forgive you."  
  
His arms snaked around her body and pulled her into his chest. She curled up in his protective embrace and they huddled together until they cried themselves into an exhausted sleep on the floor.  
  
-----  
  
Elliot desperately clawed his way up from the depths of sleep. His eyes flew open and he gasped for air, finally realizing it had only been a dream. Her face still hung hazily in front of his eyes, accusing and full of hate. It had been a nightmare of the worst kind.  
  
He shifted his position so he was flat on his back, still cradling her with one arm against his chest. She moaned in her sleep and he soothed her frown away with the open palm of his hand. Thank God the reality was better than the dream. She was being so understanding and was obviously handling this a whole hell of a lot better than he was.  
  
He scrubbed his face with his free hand and stared at the ceiling. God, what had he almost done to her? Olivia had been prepared to forgive him and he'd almost left without seeing her out of some notion that she'd be better off without him. He loved her so much and he'd do anything to keep her happy and that definitely wouldn't have done it.  
  
Speaking of which she probably wouldn't be very happy to wake up on the hard floor in such an uncomfortable position. And he didn't particularly want to stay down here now that he was more fully awake. His back was already in enough pain as it was; he didn't need a full night spend on the floor.  
  
He gently extracted her from his arms and rolled away. The lights were still on and he could read the clock on the wall. Three in the morning; they'd only been sleeping a few hours. She was mumbling in her sleep again as he knelt down to scoop her up carefully. Her head nodded into his chest, but she didn't wake up. He carried her into her bedroom without trying to turn on her light.  
  
He could see her neatly-made bed from the light that spilled in from the hall and he set her down tenderly on top of her sheets. She groaned and dug herself into her pillow when he took off her shoes. He smiled indulgently and pulled the blanket up from the bottom of the bed to settle it over her.  
  
How had he ever been able to do anything to hurt her?  
  
In an instant his cycle of self-hatred had resurfaced and he turned to go, angry at himself. First he'd abused their friendship by making a move while they were drunk, then he raped her--okay, so maybe not--and then he'd tried to leave without even telling her good-bye. How could he be so self-involved? He'd been lying to himself when he said he was leaving for her; he'd wanted to go because it would have been easier for him. He said to himself over and over that he wanted to hear her condemnation that he'd almost believed it himself. In truth hearing those words would have shattered his world. She had that kind of power of him.  
  
He heard her murmur on the bed as he reached the door, but it wasn't till he was closing it behind him that he realized she was mumbling his name.  
  
"Elliot?"  
  
He stuck his head back inside, hoping she was just talking in her sleep. "Yes?"  
  
She wasn't. "Don't leave me here by myself."  
  
He sighed deeply as he moved back into the room. Who was he to deny her anything?  
  
[tbc] 


	4. chapter four

title: control - chapter four  
  
author: duck, who's okay with feeling again  
  
rating: pg-13  
  
author note: i like music a lot. sorry for the constant lyrical quotations.  
  
disclaimer: they're not mine. i'm almost over it at this point. ha.  
  
-----  
  
"i promise i'm not trying to make your life harder  
  
or return to where we were but..."  
  
-dido, white flag  
  
-----  
  
This time when Elliot woke up it was to the most pleasant feeling of happiness. It took a moment of disorientation after he opened his eyes to figure out what it was in the semi-darkness, but once he'd sorted everything out he grinned. Olivia stopped giving him soft kisses and smiled back at him.  
  
"Good morning," she said amiably. "Given up on some of your more ridiculous notions yet?"  
  
"Mostly." She was crouched over top of him, the blanket he'd draped over her now flung over her shoulders like a cape. He reached up with his thumb and traced the line of her cheek. "You know it's probably too soon to be doing this."  
  
She sighed and collapsed back onto the bed next to him. He put his arm around her and she nestled down into the crook of it, throwing one arm casually over his chest. "When we walk out of this room it's going to be uncomfortable again, isn't it?"  
  
"Probably," he agreed. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm still not entirely comfortable with myself yet."  
  
"Even though I've forgiven you?" He gave a half-chuckle into her hair.  
  
"You don't think there's anything to forgive," he reminded.  
  
"Doesn't mean I can't absolve you of your perceived sin."  
  
He laughed outright that time. "My own personal priest. Great."  
  
"You're so harsh on yourself you need one," she teased.  
  
"Hazards of being Catholic," he said, smiling. "Although if you tell me to say ten 'Hail Marys' I might refuse."  
  
"I won't," she promised. "So, do you get to see your kids today?"  
  
He thought about it for a second and realized he didn't even know the day. "What day is it? Is it Saturday already?"  
  
"Ah, building the case for responsible father, are we?" Though her tone was light he took mild offense from her words.  
  
"Hey, a lot's been happening this week. You know that," he said sharply. She stiffened in his grasp at the accusatory tone and made a move to roll away. He let her go and sighed. He propped himself up on his elbows to look at her and offered, "Sorry."  
  
She studied his face from across the bed. She was on her side resting her chin in her hands. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," she finally said. She gave him an odd sort of half smile. "It's started already, hasn't it?"  
  
"The awkwardness? Yeah." He flipped himself so he was on his side facing her and mirrored her position. "But I think we'll get better at this."  
  
"I just don't know what's going to offend you anymore," she confessed. "The last thing I want to do is get this any more complicated with fights. I know we've had bad ones before, and probably will in the future--"  
  
"You just don't want it to break any balance we may have struck," he finished. "I feel the same way." He stuck out his other hand and she laced her fingers with his.  
  
"Let's just promise to tread carefully?" she asked.  
  
"I know it's not possible, but let's just act as normally as we can manage." He sighed, knowing full well they couldn't and wouldn't go back to the easy friendship they'd had before. "I don't want to lose you as my partner or my best friend."  
  
She gave his fingers a squeeze. "That won't happen, no matter how hard we fight."  
  
"And as for romance..." he trailed off.  
  
"...we were going to wait before this anyway." He nodded his agreement. "You going to be okay?"  
  
He shrugged with a touch of hopelessness. "How am I supposed to know?"  
  
She considered him carefully again. "Maybe you should go talk to the other male victim. The one that was there for a week?"  
  
He thought about it for a moment. It probably would be helpful, for both he and the other man. If Elliot himself was any measure, the poor guy was likely in knots over what had happened. "What was his name again?"  
  
"Um," Olivia said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling as she thought. "Mark?"  
  
"Oh yeah," he said as it came back to him. "Mark Doran." Investor who'd been kidnapped with his secretary. He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. "I guess I'll call him before I go pick up the kids and see if we can meet tomorrow."  
  
"Sounds like a good idea to me."  
  
-----  
  
Elliot sat at the outdoor cafe, his left leg jiggling nervously. His right fingers tapped out an erratic beat on the table as he glanced around. The air was cool as September was giving way to October and the city was starting to feel the grip of fall. He almost would have preferred having his trench coat with him, but his suit jacket would have to do for now.  
  
He checked his watch and realized only a minute had passed since the last time he'd looked. Mr. Doran still had five minutes before they were supposed to meet. He ran his hand over his face in edgy worry. He'd spent the last day thinking about what they were going to talk about and he still had no idea.  
  
"Detective Stabler?" a man's voice asked from behind him. Elliot turned, then rose to greet the shorter man. Doran stood nearly a head shorter than he was, but his black hair was spiked up with gel that added at least an inch. His blue eyes shifted uneasily, but he extended his hand anyway.  
  
"Please, call me Elliot," he said, taking it and giving it a small shake.  
  
"Mark," Doran said. Elliot gestured to the empty seat across from him as he sat back down and Doran slid into it. Elliot remembered meeting and interviewing him just before...everything had happened. He hadn't been nearly so well put together then, but then again he had been tied in a bed for a week. He was a good looking guy in his late twenties who'd had success early in life. Of course, that hadn't made a damn bit of difference when it came to getting kidnapped. Actually it was the cause.  
  
Elliot had reviewed his notes from the interview that morning and the details had been eerily familiar. Doran and his secretary had been assessing the warehouse property in preparation for approving an investment for a new shipping company looking to operate out of them. They were both knocked unconscious in one, which should have thrown up red flags when Elliot and Olivia had decided to check out the other warehouses.  
  
At the time they thought the perp had just dumped them back where he'd found them, but it looked like both pairs had merely been victims of opportunity. He'd talked about it with Liv when he'd realized how stupid they'd both been in ignoring the basic facts laid out in front of them. By the time he had to leave for the meeting they still hadn't figured out why they'd done it. It was just shoddy police work and boy had they gotten burned by it.  
  
"So, I can imagine why you wanted to talk," Doran said grimly. Elliot gestured the waiter over and they both ordered a beer.  
  
Once he was gone, Elliot answered. "Yeah. Well, we share a pretty unique experience and I know neither of us has tried to talk to Victims Services."  
  
Doran snorted. "What am I supposed to say to them? 'Yeah, I know I'm supposed to be a rape victim too--'"  
  
"But you can't help feeling like you're a rapist," Elliot finished, nodding. "Have you tried to talk to your secretary about this?"  
  
"Geena's more like my personal assistant. God, she wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place, except I wanted to dictate notes to her instead of writing them myself." He stopped when the waiter came back with two bottles of beer. Elliot watched him, noting he hadn't actually answered the question. Doran took a deep gulp of beer, impressive for a guy that came off as a yuppie.  
  
Elliot took a sip before carrying on with the conversation. "So you haven't tried to talk to her about it."  
  
"No," Doran replied, shaking his head. "I told her she could take as much vacation as she needed. That if she didn't think she could work with me anymore I'd give her a glowing recommendation to anywhere she wanted."  
  
"Which did she opt for?"  
  
"She took the vacation until she can make up her mind about whether to leave or not."  
  
Elliot picked at the corner of the beer label. "Maybe you should try."  
  
The other man took another swig. "What makes you think it'll help?" His voice held a note of helpless despair.  
  
"Because my partner and I are talking and it's making me feel a whole hell of a lot better," Elliot told him. "She was my best friend before all this happened and I found out she still is."  
  
"With all due respect Elliot, we were repeatedly forced to have sex for a week. You only had to do it once." The younger man was visibly upset and Elliot looked past his outburst.  
  
"Just because we only did it once doesn't we don't feel the same things," he said in the most soothing voice he could summon. "We know just what you're going through and if you haven't been able to talk to Geena about this, maybe you should talk to a counselor." He put as much emphasis on the word maybe as he could, hoping to give him the impression he had a choice. Really, it was probably the only thing that could salvage his relationship with his personal assistant if they weren't able to talk about it with each other.  
  
"I know," Doran sighed. "I just don't know if I even deserve her forgiveness."  
  
"Trust me," Elliot said with a small smile. "You do."  
  
Doran stared into his beer bottle with a vaguely amused look on his face. "I introduced them."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Geena and her husband." Doran unconsciously imitated Elliot's earlier actions as he picked at his label. "He was a friend from college and she'd been working for me for a couple months. They got married at the beginning of the summer."  
  
"Maybe you should talk to him about it too," Elliot offered. "Odds are pretty good that he doesn't blame you either."  
  
"He has called me a couple times," Doran said. "I never pick up the phone though."  
  
"Next time, why don't you answer? You probably both have some things you need to say," Elliot advised. He took another sip of beer. He wasn't in any particular mood to drink much.  
  
"Maybe I will," Doran said. He drained the rest of his beer and put it back down. He gestured at Elliot with his chin. "You haven't really said how you're doing with this."  
  
Elliot shrugged noncommittally. "I kept blaming myself for it. That testimony in court was the hardest thing I thought I'd ever have to do."  
  
"It was for me too," Doran agreed.  
  
"Then it turned out that talking to Olivia about it was harder."  
  
Doran chuckled darkly. "Then why would I want to talk to Geena?"  
  
"Because it gets better and easier and you can start to not blame yourself for it anymore. We fell asleep crying the first night we talked about it, but the point was that we fell asleep together," Elliot told him. "She forgave me and let me hold her. It was the best feeling in the world to know I still had her trust, even after everything had happened."  
  
"So you two are really okay with each other now?" Doran asked curiously.  
  
"Yeah," Elliot affirmed. "Mostly anyway. There's still some level of discomfort, but I think the people we work with are going to have a harder time adapting to it than we are. The only thing I'm going to have a problem with is having everyone know the intimate details of our personal life."  
  
"You're a very private person, aren't you?"  
  
"Very, and so's Olivia." Elliot took another pull on his beer, debating whether or not to tell Doran about their lives. He had been thorough with Elliot, he deserved a little more knowledge of the situation. "I recently had a rather amicable divorce with my wife of twenty years. I've been living with Olivia ever since I moved out."  
  
"Wait, so you two are..." Doran trailed off, obviously not wanting to finish the sentence.  
  
"No," Elliot answered with a smile. "Everyone thought we were, but we haven't ever. Except..."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I almost wish we had, so it wouldn't have hurt nearly so much. I don't know if we'll ever be able to pursue anything now." Elliot felt the confession slip out of him and he covered his awkwardness with another sip.  
  
"Oh." Doran was studying him carefully now. "How does your ex-wife feel about everything that's happened?"  
  
"I told her a couple things yesterday when I went to visit the kids. She used to think Liv and I were having an affair, but after all this I think she finally believes me completely that we weren't."  
  
"Some good's got to come out of everything, right?" Doran asked with a wan half smile.  
  
"Yeah," Elliot said, mirror his smile. "I guess it does. So where's yours?"  
  
Doran considered that for a moment. "I don't know."  
  
"I guarantee that if you talk about it with someone, there will be."  
  
"I'm talking about it with you, aren't I?"  
  
Elliot sighed. Now he understood why Olivia had been so frustrated with his obstinacy. "And the good that'll come out of this is that you talk to the person who matters. I've been trained to deal with victims but I can only do so much. Eventually it'll come down to Geena or a therapist. And trust me, having been shrinked several times for the job, I'd talk to Geena if I were you."  
  
Doran checked his watch and reached for his wallet. "Thanks for the advice. I have a meeting uptown in fifteen minutes that I'm probably going to be late for, but it's been worth it."  
  
"I'll get this," Elliot said, waving his hand and reaching for his wallet with his other at the same time.  
  
"No, don't worry about it. It's the least I can do," Doran said, throwing down a bill onto the table. "And you want some advice from me?"  
  
"Sure," Elliot shrugged.  
  
"Don't let something like this stop you from being happy," he tossed over his shoulder as he walked away.  
  
[tbc] 


	5. chapter five

title: control - chapter five  
  
author: duck  
  
rating: pg-13  
  
author note: because it hadn't yet occurred to me, this whole damn story's for josh, who made me feel more than i ever thought possible. you are missed, my friend. if ever there was a happier place it was for you.  
  
disclaimer: i'm getting tired of trying to come up with new ways to say that they're not mine, so we're just gonna go with "not it!" again.  
  
- Office of George Huang -  
  
- Monday October 4th 9:14am -  
  
George sat behind his desk sorting his cases by priority for the week. He was going to have to visit a few suspects awaiting trial in prison, but those could wait until tomorrow. The trip to Riker's should only take up Tuesday if he could wrangle visits with all of them, and if not he could finish them up on Wednesday. That left Thursday and Friday clear for meetings with agents and today open to stop by Special Victims.  
  
Ah, his little outside advising job. The people that worked there bordered on friends, but he still managed to keep himself aloof from them. They'd been openly hostile to him at first, but over the few years he'd been coming in to consult they'd shown an increasing respect for him. It didn't change the fact that they were entertaining subjects of study themselves.  
  
He could write an entire paper on Detectives Munch and Tutuola for example. They had one of the most fascinating interactions George had ever seen. Their entire relationship was based on insults and layers of hostility that were in fact expressions of affection. It had been disorienting at first to sort out, but George had managed to and wasn't easily confused anymore.  
  
Still, Munch and Tutuola's interactions were far out stripped by Benson and Stabler's. The two of them never stood on the same ground with each other anymore. It was like a constantly shifting sand dune. When he'd first met them there was the usual casual flirtation and mild sexual tension you'd expect from a reasonably attractive set of male and female partners. After Stabler had moved in with her though, there was definitely something more tangible to their relationship.  
  
George wouldn't go so far as to say they were sleeping together, but living with each other was definitely doing interesting things to their interactions at work. They were more comfortable with physical contact, using it more frequently to calm the other one down or control reactions. Their looks, while meaningful before, now practically smoldered with dual layers of communication and desire. They weren't the looks of two people sleeping together, but the looks of two people frustrated by their inability to do so.  
  
And then George had gone into Special Victims one day to find a somber and quiet squad room. Cragen had pulled him into his office and told him a story that had made his jaw drop. George was a normally unflappable guy, but the things the captain had told him were enough to provoke a reaction out of even him. A man had kidnapped Olivia and Elliot and had forced them to have sex before they'd been rescued. After he'd recovered from his initial horror and put his collected emotional mask back on, he'd worked more details out of the captain.  
  
If he disassociated from the people he knew, the situation was intriguing. Two avenues of study presented themselves: the man who kidnapped them and the detectives themselves. The first would be a fascinating subject of study, trying to find his motivations and reasons. The second however would be interesting because George knew their previous history. He would probably be able to arrange to speak to the man, now that he was in prison awaiting his verdict and eventually sentencing, and it turned out he was going to be able to analyze the detectives as well.  
  
Cragen had asked him to talk to them both today; it was their first day back.  
  
-----  
  
Elliot was the first to enter, cracking the door to the interview room and sticking his head in cautiously. George had already closed the blinds to give him a sense of privacy. When Elliot saw him he gave a wary smile and entered. His steps to the chair across the table were hesitant and slow. His entire body language exuded a high level of unwillingness to be in the room. "Please sit down, Elliot," George invited.  
  
"I've got to be honest, Doc," Elliot said as he sat. "I don't really want to be here."  
  
"And I don't want to push you." George gave him an encouraging smile. "If you want to talk about what happened that's what I'm here for."  
  
The detective sighed and closed his eyes, obviously waging a war within himself over whether to talk or not. "I should follow my own advice."  
  
His own advice? Had he advised Olivia to seek counseling? "Did you tell Olivia to talk to me about it?"  
  
"No, I told Mark Doran, the other male victim, to talk to someone." Elliot opened his eyes. "I met with him yesterday for a beer. He hasn't been able to talk to his personal assistant yet."  
  
"The other female victim?" Elliot nodded. "Have you and Olivia been able to speak yet?"  
  
Elliot nodded again and met George's even gaze. "Quite a bit actually. We've got a ways to go but I think we'll be okay."  
  
"Elliot, you know I won't tell anyone what we talk about here." He actually gave George and impish grin and pointed in the direction of the two-way mirror.  
  
"Would you like to take a walk?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
-----  
  
"I think I'm more uncomfortable with the fact that our personal lives have been shoved into the spotlight." They were walking along the anonymous streets of New York amidst the hustle and bustle of people hurrying to get from place to place. As long as they didn't pause for too long anywhere, it was incredibly private for a public place. George could feel the hint of cold in the air and he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets as he observed Elliot out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, we know people wondered about us before. Now they don't have to because everyone knows."  
  
"You feel exposed?"  
  
"Very. I've only been in there a couple hours and already I feel like everyone's staring at the two of us, just wondering what we're doing now. Wondering how we can still work together, much less live together." George chanced a full look and took in the expression of absolute frustration on Elliot's face.  
  
"This is something you and Olivia have to work out," he said. "It's no one else's business how you handle yourselves unless it affects your work. Has it?"  
  
"Like I said, we've only been here a couple hours," Elliot shrugged. "All we've done so far is some paperwork that we needed to get caught up on."  
  
"There's not much interaction in paperwork I know, but do you sense any strain in the relationship?"  
  
"Of course there's a strain." Elliot paused as they came to a halt before a crosswalk. "Doc, a guy tied us to a bed and forced us to have sex." he said it a little too loudly and a few people waiting around them edged away. "We used to drop little hints of flirting all the time and neither of us can do that anymore. When we're outside the apartment we can barely stand to come into physical contact with each other, but when we're inside I have to keep giving her little touches to make sure she's there. When I don't sleep with her the nightmares are awful."  
  
"You sleep together?" George asked with interest as they stepped out into the street. That would definitely be a huge shift in their relationship.  
  
"Only once and it was in the most literal of senses. Last Friday," Elliot admitted somewhat sheepishly. He obviously hadn't intended to divulge that detail. "I tried to leave and she wouldn't let me."  
  
"Why did you try to leave?"  
  
"Because I blamed myself."  
  
"Do you still blame yourself?"  
  
Elliot was quiet for a moment while he thought about the question. "Not nearly so much. Liv's talked most of it out of me. And after talking with Doran I realize I'm pretty well-off still being able to speak to her in the first place."  
  
He seemed pretty genuine about it. It wasn't in Elliot's character to hide any self-resentment or loathing, so George decided to move back to the dreams. "What are the nightmares about?"  
  
Elliot hesitated before answering. "That day. Olivia screaming at me that it's my fault. Not being able to work at SVU anymore. All three at once."  
  
"And what about the time you slept with her?"  
  
"I only had one early in the night about her. I didn't have another one after I fell back asleep." At least he was sleeping in the first place.  
  
"But you have been sleeping?"  
  
"Mostly."  
  
"You're doing very well and by talking it out with Olivia you've taken very important steps to readjusting, Elliot." George stopped and turned to face him. "Give it a week and I'll come talk to you again; see how work's going."  
  
"Are you going to talk to Olivia when we get back?"  
  
"Only if she wants to."  
  
-----  
  
When they returned to the station house George chose the crib this time as his location. He should have considered the relative safety of the environment and whether or not they would feel comfortable opening up to him. Regardless of the fact that they knew Cragen would never eavesdrop, they were cops; they'd be leery of anywhere that even had the potential.  
  
While Elliot was off finding Olivia for him, he scribbled down a few preliminary notes on the behavior he'd observed so far. Extreme resiliency in overcoming trauma, a willingness to listen to external advice, a sense of privacy and discretion, intelligence. They were all things you'd expect to find in a good police officer. Perhaps his very job was aiding him in rising above the horrors he'd had inflicted upon him. He knew enough about rape to know in his heart that it wasn't his fault, even if it had taken him a while to admit it. And he was still admitting it.  
  
That left Olivia as the only potential problem. Either she was hiding her pain from Elliot extraordinarily well or she really had already come to terms with everything that happened. George knew she was a strong woman, but she had a history of rape. While she wasn't the one raped, incidents like this one could bring up the pain of the past.  
  
"Hey George." He looked up to find her standing in the doorframe. He was so busy with his notes and ruminations he hadn't even heard her come up the steps.  
  
"Olivia," he said, rising from his chair. "Please, sit down."  
  
He flipped his notebook shut and slid it into his bag as he sat down. She needed to feel like she wasn't just some subject to be studied. She sat with as much caution as Elliot had. Their reluctance to talk was usual of such private people. Once he'd gotten Elliot talking though, George had found the man's problems all but spilled out. Perhaps it would be as easy with Olivia.  
  
"Yes I'm fine. Yes I'm fine with Elliot. Yes I've been sleeping." George blinked at her directness. While this wasn't a bad start, there were better ways to open the conversation.  
  
"Glad we got out of the way," he smiled.  
  
She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I'm dealing with this. I don't see any need to talk to you about it." There wasn't much agitation in her voice. She sounded flat and matter of fact about it actually.  
  
"All I'm here to do is give you an objective ear."  
  
"And determine if we're still fit for duty." There was a touch of resentment in that one. At least he knew she was feeling something other than hesitancy.  
  
"I'm not here for that. You would be talking to someone else about it if the captain felt at all that you could be." Olivia sent a vague grimace in his direction without actually meeting his eyes. He only let his smile pull at the corners of his mouth. She was going to talk herself out hoping he'd believe her partner wasn't responsible for the atrocities he'd been forced to commit. Such a strong love was admirable, if he'd allowed himself to be subject to such feelings.  
  
As an analyst he couldn't, so he just looked neutrally at her until she finally coughed up whatever she was contemplating behind that thoughtful gaze of hers. "It's not his fault." Perversely he loved being right.  
  
"No."  
  
She obviously mistook his tone of acceptance as one begging for proof. "Of course not. I mean, the guy had his own gun aimed at my head. Elliot would do anything to protect me." Her eyes rolled in the bottom their sockets in the most visible display of frustration he'd seen yet from her. "I don't get why he has such trouble accepting that."  
  
So it wasn't the events that upset her; it was Elliot's unflagging devotion to the black and white of the law. "Because to Elliot's way of thinking, he's the one who actually raped you."  
  
She sighed deeply, releasing a good deal of tension with her breath. "Sometimes I wish he didn't think that way."  
  
"Does that mean you love him any less?" She looked up sharply at him, her stare bordering on a hostile glare. The same war that he'd seen in Elliot's eyes fought on the stage of Olivia's expressive brown ones. There was definitely a mutual attraction there that no one was acting on yet.  
  
George felt something akin to pity swell in his throat; after all, he'd never been able to ask Alex out as anything more than friends. As quickly as the feeling rose he quashed it, burying it beneath the mounds of professionalism built up after years of contact with violent criminals of every sort.  
  
"No, it doesn't," Olivia finally admitted, truly meeting his assessing look for the first time. He couldn't detect any hint of fear in her eyes, so he let her admission slide.  
  
"Then I don't see any reason to keep you here any longer than you want to be. If you'd like to leave you're free to go."  
  
"I wasn't before?" He permitted her observance a small smile.  
  
"Of course you were."  
  
"What if I have more to talk about?" Her expression clearly said she was baiting him into further questions. He might as well bite.  
  
Hell, sometimes it paid off to be direct. "How do you feel about everyone you work with knowing what happened between you and Elliot." The quick elevation of her chin telegraphed the fact that he'd hit a strong nerve, no surprise considering his conversation with Elliot earlier. They were both secretive people and the idea of people knowing about their personal lives was irksome to both of them. He'd reversed the bait and dragged her back into the shoals of talking with him.  
  
"Honestly it pisses me off. Everyone's been judging us with just a look today."  
  
"And you've only been working for a few hours since you came back?"  
  
"Yes. It's been harder than I thought." Especially the time without Elliot working diligently across from her. She didn't say it but her tone of voice implied a great deal.  
  
"Do you think it will be a problem?"  
  
"With Elliot, no. We've talked and are well on our way to being perfectly fine with everything that's happened. Everyone else I'm not so sure about." Her shoulders slumped as she rested her elbows on the table, her arms stretching out in front of her. Her thumbs sought out the bridge of her nose and pinched, obviously staving off a headache. "They need to mind their own business."  
  
"You're right," he said gently. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Elliot. It's not their problem; it's yours. If you have in fact come to terms with everything that's happened, then the best thing you can do is act normally and let everyone else work out any issues they may have. You can't take responsibility for them."  
  
She let her forearms lay on the table. "Thanks for believing me, Doc."  
  
He cocked one eyebrow at her. "Should I not?"  
  
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I was just worried you wouldn't." The simple confession of feelings flattered him. He knew she wouldn't hope he'd believe her just for the sake of her and Elliot's jobs; she was genuinely worried that he as her acquaintance and friend wouldn't believe her.  
  
"I'll be back in a week to talk to you both again, Olivia. And as frequently after that as you need me to be." He gave her a warm smile. "And I believe you."  
  
She returned the smile and let her hands drag along the table as she stood, using them to push herself up--like she was already exhausted after only a day back on the job. Perhaps they could have used another week of vacation to sort their feelings out, but they balanced each other well enough to have the ability to handle almost anything together.  
  
Yes, Elliot and Olivia balanced each other very well to be able to talk through their experiences and help each other get past them in the first place. George had no doubt that one day they would finally get together like everyone was betting they would, it was just a matter of when their ordeal would become a complete non-issue. It could disappear in as little time as a few weeks, or it could fester for years. He knew the original betting pool had gone out the window--there were rumors of a rather sizable donation to the Victim's Fund from the one-six--but perhaps when it started up again, which it inevitably would, he'd join in this time.  
  
But right now he had to go tell Captain Cragen that his detectives would be just fine as long as everyone gave them the space they needed.  
  
[end]  
  
new story in the series soon when school permits. which is *soon*, i promise. and i do keep promises ;) 


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